


Basic Courtesies

by LaLainaJ



Series: Make Some Noise [55]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Missing Scene, Phone Calls & Telephones, Presents, Set During 5x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6593383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaLainaJ/pseuds/LaLainaJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caroline calls Klaus to thank him for the mini fridge. Because it's the polite thing to do. Or at least that's what she tells herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basic Courtesies

**Basic Courtesies**

**(From a prompt that has mysteriously vanished from my Tumblr inbox requesting Caroline thanking Klaus for the mini fridge. Rated K+).**

It was there when they moved in. Already unpacked. Shiny, obviously high end. Caroline's name on the packing slip under the pretty red bow that was sitting on top.

"Ooh, mini fridge!" Elena exclaims excitedly, squatting down to open it. "The fancy kind. Who's it from?"

She feels a rush of guilt, with Elena's big brown eyes looking up at her, but she quickly pushes it away. She was allowed to have friends, wasn't she? And friends gave each other gifts. Caroline swipes the envelope and rips into it, stalls by pretending to read its contents.

Unnecessarily, as Caroline already _knows_ who had sent it without a doubt in her mind. The grin Klaus had worn when he'd teased her about graduation gifts is an easy memory to recall. And he was the type to remember little things, and use them to great effect later. The New Orleans billing address confirms her hunch. Caroline panics for a moment, considering what to say. She knows Elena woouldn't take Klaus sending gifts well, doesn't really want to deal with the ensuing fit. It won't be an obvious one mind - not by Elena Gilbert. There'd be no yelling or stomping. Just a lot of heavy concern, head shaking. Sorrowful eyes and disappointed glances. All of which were even worse than a knock down drag out would be. Caroline couldn't fight back without the whole thing twisting. Somehow _she'd_ be the giant inconsiderate bitch once Elena had said all she thought she needed to.

Caroline lies through her teeth shoving the paperwork between the pages of a book. She makes a mental note of the title, because Caroline was so memorizing that address later. For practical purposes, just in case she or anyone she loved was ever dying of a werewolf bite.

"Steven!" she chirps, answering Elena's question. "Apparently he got a _great_ deal on it from a client, and personally I think he felt a little bad about being late, you know?"

Elena buys it, used to her friends receiving guilt-gifts from divorced and absentee parents, and Caroline relaxes. "There's a compartment that'll be perfect for blood bags," Elena says, standing up and heading to the door. "I'm going to go grab another box and pretend like carrying it is hard."

Caroline groans at that, and hurries to follow. Pretending to strain to lift boxes was a pain in the ass, not to mention super inefficient. They could be done in half the time with a little vamp speed and strength, would get to the much more fun unpacking, organizing and decorating portion of their new dorm lives.

But _no_ , they couldn't. Blah blah blah secrecy and blah blah blah blending. Totally sucked, in Caroline's opinion.

The only possible bright side was if one of the guys who'd been hanging around and ogling her ass every time she bent over made his under the breath comments a little more loudly, maybe tried to hit on her in an extra skeezy way. Then Caroline wouldn't need to feel guilty about luring him away from his bros for a little snack.

Call her an optimist, but she thought she had a pretty good shot of treating herself to something a little fresher then the blood bags in the cooler before the end of the day.

* * *

Later, having healed and compelled Jason (a second string running back with terrible taste in shorts), Caroline drags her feet on her way back to her dorm, her cell phone sitting heavy in her pocket. Elena and Bonnie (and Megan, the dorm crasher) aren't expecting her back anytime soon. She'd told them she was going to check out the buildings where her classes were being held, plot out the quickest routes around campus.

Caroline's control freak over achiever rep sometimes served her well.

Megan had expressed some concern about her being out on her own but Caroline had scoffed, "Please, my mom's a cop, I have pepper spray, and I know how to defend myself." And the girl had reluctantly backed off.

Elena had offered to come with her but Caroline had waved her away, insisting she'd be fine. Truthfully, she'd been craving a little alone time. She'd never actually shared a room, or a bathroom, so it was going to be kind of an adjustment.

One that required a lot of teeth gritting, and forcing herself not to point out that Elena squeezed the toothpaste tube _completely_ wrong.

Plus, she's debating calling Klaus. And Elena can't be anywhere in the vicinity for _that_.

It's the polite thing to do, isn't it? He'd sent her a gift. Her grandmothers would be rolling in their graves if she didn't at least acknowledge it. Say thank you, like a properly raised young lady.

And okay, fine. Maybe she wants to talk to him, see how things are going down in New Orleans. Sue her, but it's got to be more exciting than Whitmore, Virginia. A little vicarious food, art and culture never killed anybody.

Caroline's phone is in her hand, decision made. She pulls up his contact information, settling down on a bench on a deserted patch of grass. She hits the button to dial, not allowing herself to obsess any longer, her leg jiggling nervously as she waits.

Four rings and she's thinking about hanging up, only holding on because worrying about whether he'd call her back, _when_ he'd call her back, kind of sounded like a nightmare. The call connects on the sixth, loud music and the roar of voices in the background, Klaus' rising above, "Caroline? Just give me a moment, would you?"

She hears him tell someone he's leaving, and then the background noise grows fainter. "Sorry about that, love," he says. "To what do I owe the pleasure? It is life and death already?"

Caroline winces, at the assumption, "Nope. Things are fine here. Boring, even. No bad guys or tragedies in weeks."

Klaus chuckles, "Yes, well pointing that out likely doomed you, you realize?"

Caroline shrugs, because she knows he's probably right. Things never stayed quiet for long. "I can handle it. The roommate the school sprung on us _is_ a little sketchy."

"Is she human?"

"Allegedly," Caroline grumbles.

She can hear the smile in his voice in his teasing reply, "Well, I'd advocate eating her, just to be cautious. But I'm sure you'd find such measures a touch too extreme."

She finds herself smiling, and what has her life come to that she's joking about casual murder with Klaus, of all people? "We'll see," she replies. "It depends on whether she can keep her grimy mitts off my stuff."

"That's fair," Klaus allows.

"I think so. And speaking of stuff, I actually called to say thanks. For the mini fridge. You really didn't have to get me anything."

"Nonsense. Showing up to your graduation empty handed was quite rude. Elijah would have been appalled, had he known."

"Saving my ass from those witches, and healing Damon, could have been considered a gift," Caroline pointed out reasonably.

"You don't even like Damon," Klaus shoots back.

Ugh, she really didn't. And what did it say that Klaus could say that, like it was a simple fact, that everyone should know?

"Still. Thank you," she repeats sincerely.

"You're welcome, Caroline."

They're silent for a long moment, and Caroline finds herself closing her eyes, listening to him breathe. She shouldn't miss him, but she does, just a little.

Klaus clears his throat, "Did you get the warranty paperwork? It should have been there. I didn't send a card, thinking you'd rather be discrete."

Again with the intuitiveness. "I did," Caroline confirms. "It's tucked into a copy of _Gone with the Wind_ right now."

"Good," Klaus murmurs. "So you have my direction. If you ever decide that a New Orleans style spring break is a college experience you should have, feel free to stop by and claim a guest bedroom."

Caroline snorts, "Subtle, Klaus. But no, getting drunk and flashing my boobs for cheap beads is not on my bucket list."

"Pity," he drawls, sounding amused. "Although that wasn't the culture I was referring to, when I offered you a tour."

"I should hope not. Because that's hardly going to tempt me."

"I know. But something will, I'm sure. Someday. Perhaps not New Orleans. It could be Paris in fifty years, Rome in a century. Madrid or Bangkok or Buenos Aires somewhere in between."

Her eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. Klaus sounds very certain, and she wants to know why. But Caroline's still too afraid to ask.

He doesn't make her, changing the subject so smoothly she kind of wonders if she's crazy enough to imagine a second grand declaration. His tone shifts, becomes more casual, "I should let you go, sweetheart. Get back to my associates. But if you ever wish to chat…"

He lets the offer hang, and Caroline knows she should probably shut it down.

But she doesn't really want to.

"Have a good night, Klaus," she says instead.

"Goodnight, Caroline," he echoes, right before he hangs up.

She sets her phone down on the bench, considers going back to her dorm, putting on her very best human mask for her new roommate. Decides she really doesn't want to, just yet.

Caroline stays put, on the bench, where she doesn't need to pretend. Until her phone buzzes, Bonnie's 'Where are you?' flashing over the screen.

Caroline sends a text that she's on her way back and heaves herself up off the bench. Put Klaus, and the temptation the big wide world beyond offered, in a tiny box in the back of her mind. Duty called. She could only hope that the unpacking had gone smoothly without her supervision.


End file.
